Out of My Mind

by A. J. Truman

  The added pressure made his own cock harder. Mac ran his fingers through Gideon’s hair. His breath danced on his neck. Gideon was taken over by Mac. His dick rubbed against Mac’s tight stomach.

  Golden rays of setting sun spliced through the blinds, giving them a magic glow. Mac pumped into Gideon’s ass with passion and strength. His hands traveled up Gideon’s sweaty chest and flicked his nipples.

  And then that intense feeling Mac had told him about in their apartment, the feeling of knowing you’re about to come while getting fucked, overtook Gideon. His whole body shook with anticipation as it built and built. His body tried to clench, but couldn’t because of Mac’s cock. He was powerless against his orgasm ravaging through him. Fucking powerless. It was wonderful. Mac fucked him harder, grunting into his ear. Gideon’s body was defenseless. He surrendered to the moment. His legs were about to give out. Every muscle in him spasmed. Mac held him tighter, sensing he was close.

  “You’re gonna come for me?”

  “Baby, I am.”

  Mac slammed into him in deep thrusts. Gideon’s body shook like it was getting electrocuted. He was going to yell so loud that everyone in the hotel would hear them. But Gideon still had some modesty. He bit into his arm as he shot hot white streaks against his stomach. He thought he might have lost consciousness for a few seconds.

  “Holy shit,” he whispered.

  “Intense, right?”

  “Holy shit.” It would take him a few moments to regain speech and motor functions.

  Mac fucked him in speedy hits as he raced to orgasm. He doubled over as he came inside Gideon. When he was finished, he collapsed onto the bed.

  “So how was it?” Mac asked with a curious smile. He kissed Gideon’s shoulder and rubbed his chest.

  Words and Gideon were not on the same wavelength. He was still catching his breath.

  “Gideon?”

  His mind was mush with afterglow, but he managed to say something.

  “I’m gay. I’m really, really gay.”

  CHAPTER twenty-three

  Mac

  Mac dreamt about Aunt Rita. He imagined her resting happily in heaven. She peeked through the clouds at her funeral. As Mac looked up, she winked at him. It was going to be okay, he thought the wink meant. But then Gideon wrapped his arms around him, and Aunt Rita winked again.

  Mac woke up in Gideon’s arms. Gideon nuzzled his chin into the crook of Mac’s neck. His chest hair bristled against Mac’s back.

  It was going to be a good morning, a good day, good week, good everything. For the first time since being back in Pittsburgh, Mac felt hopeful. He filled up his lungs with stuffy hotel room air. The smell of sex lingered in the room.

  Mac replayed last night, particularly the part when he had sex with Gideon. It was better than he imagined, because it meant something to the both of them. He wasn’t alone anymore. It was like Aunt Rita had this all arranged, and she really was winking from heaven above.

  “Morning,” Gideon groaned. He pulled Mac backward into a kiss. The first signs of his stubble burned Mac’s cheeks. Gideon’s stubble came back barely a day after shaving. Mac found it undeniably hot.

  “You called yourself really, really gay last night,” Mac said, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

  “Well, considering what I had done just moments before, was it really a surprise?” He had that growly voice of just waking up. Mac felt himself pitching a tent in their lovely hotel bed.

  “I’m proud of you, Gideon.” Mac stroked his hand. “I know that wasn’t easy.”

  “Well, you’re the first person I’ve said that to, so I still have a ways to go.” Gideon leaned on his side to face Mac. “What I went through is nothing compared to what you had to endure in West Virginia.”

  The tent collapsed. Mac gulped back a lump in his throat. He didn’t want West Virginia anywhere near this bed. He kissed Gideon, putting their conversation on hold for the foreseeable future.

  Gideon’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. Mac tried to pull him back, but nobody could ever resist that siren call. iPhones were more addictive than heroin.

  “I’ll just let it roll to voicemail.” Gideon turned around to get his phone, and in two seconds, he was out of bed. He gasped at his stark naked body and scrambled to find his boxers. Mac watched this scene with some amusement.

  Gideon clicked on the phone. “Hey Mom, can you give me a second? Yeah, yeah, just one second.” He held the phone to his chest. “I’m talking to my mom while I’m naked!”

  His eyes had the familiar panic of their first meeting as freshmen. Gideon darted around the hotel room, searching frantically for his boxers while his phone was pressed into the crook of his neck.

  “Yeah, Mom. Sorry, one second. I just need one more second. I was coming out of the bathroom from brushing my teeth and I have the coffee maker going. I just need to shut it off so I don’t burn the place down.”

  Mac pointed to Gideon’s boxers, hanging off the desk lamp. Gideon pressed his hands together as if he were praying and mouthed “Thank You.”

  “No, Mom. I don’t have class this morning…yeah, well I do have that class but it was cancelled because my professor has a stomach bug…yeah, I think it’s food poisoning.” He sat in the desk chair and tried to put his boxers on, but his arm couldn’t stretch because there was a phone connected to it.

  “Hey, Mom. I’m going to put you on speakerphone for one second. I just need to do something with both hands for one second. Okay, you still there?”

  Gideon gave Mac the quiet hand signal popular with all librarians. He placed the phone on the desk carefully, took a quick breath, and put Mama Saperstein on speakerphone.

  “Mom, you still there?”

  “Hello? Gideon, can you still hear me?” His mom’s heavy New York accent was like listening to a cartoon character for Mac.

  “Yeah, Mom.” Gideon yanked on his boxers, and then his jeans with such intensity that Mac thought they were going to rip.

  “I’m getting an echo. Do you hear that?”

  “Mom, that’s speakerphone.”

  “So what kind of stomach bug does your professor have? The temperature is dropping, and I don’t want you getting sick again so soon after your brother’s wedding. Are you bringing hand sanitizer to class with you? I saw this special on Dateline, and you know what has the most germs?”

  Gideon took her off speakerphone and put the phone to his ear. “What, Mom?...Oh, really?” He put the phone to his chest and mouthed “doorknobs” to Mac.

  That made sense.

  “I think he just got food poisoning…no, he doesn’t eat at our dining halls. I don’t know what he ate. I don’t actually know if it’s food poisoning. That’s just a guess.”

  Mac reminded himself to stock up on hand sanitizer before he took the bus home. He was curious what restaurant Gideon’s professor ate at, but then he remembered that this was all complete fiction. Gideon should’ve majored in creative writing because he knew how to tell a story.

  Gideon sat on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, Mom. I’m fine…no, I haven’t spoken to Noah. I will.” Mac wrapped his arms around Gideon, and his body tensed underneath. “He said that? Okay. I’ll call him this week. Yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

  Gideon got off the bed and stood by the closet, across the room. “If I was in a funk, I would tell you. If something was really wrong, I wouldn’t hide it from you. Actually, Mom, I need to run. I’m scrambling some eggs, and they’re starting to burn. We’ll talk later, okay? I love you.”

  He hung up and held the phone to his chest.

  Mac had to catch his breath. Just watching Gideon was beyond exhausting. He couldn’t imagine having to live like this. Even though Mac’s family kicked him out, at least he never had to lie about anything. He wondered how many lies Gideon had told his family, how many lies those lies created. And Mac could tell that he kept track of everything. He never got tripped up.

  “You want some breakfast?” Mac asked.

/>   Gideon remained by the closet. He was probably on some adrenaline high talking to his mom, and he was still coming back down. Mac got out of bed and slowly snaked his arms around him. Gideon rested his forehead on Mac’s shoulder. The exhaustion came off Gideon in waves.

  “It’s going to be okay.” Mac rubbed his back. “Breakfast?”

  “Okay,” Gideon said into his shoulder.

  They got showered and dressed. Mac used a tissue to open the door of their room.

  Φ

  Mac tapped his finger against the window of the taxi for the entire ride. His stomach twisted into a thousand tangled knots as if it were made of wires. He and Gideon were on their way back to Aunt Rita’s house to pack up his room. He paid for a month of a local storage locker. Mac would figure out what to do over Christmas break. Mac hated to think that the only remaining part of her life was stuff to be packed into boxes.

  Gideon covered Mac’s tapping hand. “Nervous?”

  “Just a little. I really hope my parents aren’t there.”

  “Don’t worry. I got your back. You won’t be facing them alone.”

  Mac managed a smile. This whole weekend had been a whirlwind of emotions, and he was wiped out on every level. He had done so much adulting. He wanted to go back to his college life of parties and classes.

  And Gideon.

  “I’m curious, did you ever try to bring charges against this Justin Weeks asshole?” He checked to make sure the cab driver had his eyes on the road.

  Mac shook his head no again. Gideon’s forehead creased with anger.

  “You never pressed charges or tried to sue for damages?”

  “Are you serious?” And Gideon was, which made Mac let out a nervous laugh. “You think when some good ole boys get in a fight in Kingwood, West Virginia, they bring in lawyers to sue for damages? You think there’s a hate crime ordinance in my tiny town?”

  Mac shot Gideon a get real look. They lived in the same country, but grew up in different worlds. Gideon didn’t say anything for the rest of the trip.

  “Fuck,” Mac said upon seeing the red pickup truck in the driveway.

  Gideon massaged his shoulders, like a manager getting his boxer ready for a fight. “You got this.”

  Mac opened the door with his key. The living room was all packed up. Every knickknack, every piece of personality that made his house a home was in a box, ready to be sent to the past. Or donated.

  “Hello?” Gideon called out to the seemingly empty house. Mac gestured for him to keep his voice down.

  “Hello?” His mom called back. “Who is that?”

  “It’s me, Mom,” Mac said, not wanting to answer her question just yet.

  His mom met him halfway down the stairs. She eyed Gideon and didn’t say anything. Not with her mouth, anyway. But Gideon didn’t show an ounce of fear.

  “Hello,” she said to the non-Daly in this house.

  “I’m Gideon. We’re here to begin packing up Mac’s room.”

  She turned to Mac. “Your father and I are cleaning out the attic. Aunt Rita has a lot of junk.”

  “Maybe you should let Mac take a look at some of that junk before you toss it out. It might be his.” Gideon crossed his arms.

  “Okay.” His mom seemed nervous. Mac felt bad that they’d spent two long days packing up the whole house, while also attending the funeral. They must’ve been exhausted.

  They all walked upstairs. Mac’s dad gave a nod of acknowledgement from up in the attic.

  “You were at the funeral yesterday, right?” Mac’s mom asked Gideon.

  “Yeah. Is this the room?” He pointed to Mac’s door.

  “Wait,” his mom called out, but Gideon did no such thing.

  He opened the door. Mac’s room was packed-up. Nothing hung on the walls. Nothing sat on his desk. It was so bare, like a hospital room.

  “We didn’t know when you were coming back, so we went ahead and did your room,” his mom said. “But you can look through. How long are you staying before you go back to school?”

  Mac was upset, but understood. He knew time was precious, and he appreciated the help. It seemed like his mom was trying extra hard to be nice, like maybe she felt bad about two days ago with the keychain.

  “You had no right to do this,” Gideon said before Mac could open his mouth. He was in full Pitbull mode. “Mac told you he would be back.”

  Mac’s dad stepped in. He wasn’t as tall as Gideon, which diminished his intimidation strategy. “We didn’t know when that would be, and we can only be in this house until the end of the month.”

  “He said he would be back, and here we are. You should’ve believed him. But I know that’s not really your forte.”

  “I don’t follow,” his dad said.

  “You seem to have this tradition of not believing your son, taking the word of a douchebag preacher over him, and basically leaving him out to dry.”

  “I don’t think you know what you’re talking about,” his dad practically growled.

  It was like watching a car accident in slow motion. Mac wanted to yell at somebody to hit the brakes, but his voice was out of commission. All he could do was watch.

  “You couldn’t wait to clean out her house and go through her stuff the second she died. Are you planning to sell those assets? Some of them are Mac’s, which he purchased with his own money.”

  Mac’s parents traded confused glances. It was weird, but even though he was angry with them, he felt like they were being disrespected, and it stung someplace deep within him.

  “You really should stay out of this. It’s a family matter.”

  “Don’t you talk to me about family matters, Mr. Daly,” Gideon shot back. His ears were tinged red with fury. “Family is just people you can kick to the curb whenever you want, right? Your son gets the shit beat out of him, and you don’t do a goddamned thing to stand up for him. You just cozy up to the pastor. What? To save face, and your store? To avoid the whispers at church? Then you send him away. You don’t try to get any type of justice against his attackers. Is that what family is to you? Not like it matters now.” Gideon held Mac’s hand in a blatant sign of defiance.

  Mac hated what he saw. His mother looked down, and his father could barely hold on to his stoic expression. Gideon landed direct hits, but why didn’t it make Mac feel better?

  “And yeah, I’m his boyfriend, or something like that. I mean, we haven’t really DTR’d yet, but at least somebody in this house cares about what happens to your son.” Gideon’s glare could slice through stone.

  Mac’s parents stared at him speechless. His dad barreled down the stairs, and seconds later, Mac jumped when the front door slammed.

  “Mac, is that what you think?” His mom asked him. “That we don’t care?”

  He couldn’t answer. His body had completely shut down.

  The front door clicked shut quietly for her exit, but hurt just as much. Gideon seemed a little shaken by the drama, but he held Mac’s hands and kissed him.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see your childhood bedroom all put together.”

  Mac nodded, his voice still paralyzed. He stayed quiet for the rest of the afternoon while they packed up odds and ends in his room and checked to see if anything in the boxes could be brought back to Browerton. He couldn’t even appreciate that Gideon had just called him his boyfriend.

  CHAPTER twenty-four

  Gideon

  On the bus ride home the next day, Gideon’s hands were all over Mac, in a loving way. Massaging his shoulder, rubbing his leg. He didn’t care how they looked. He was emboldened with a need to help the man he cared about.

  “I thought about you,” Gideon said to Mac. The bus drove through an endless stretch of deserted highway in Pennsylvania. “Over the years, sometimes the thought of you would pop into my head. I would pass you on campus, and I would have these fleeting moments where I wondered about what would’ve happened if I let you keep kissing me freshman year.”

  Mac interlock
ed their fingers in a tight grip. “You don’t have to wonder anymore.”

  They snuck a kiss while those around them were glued to their smartphones and tablets.

  “I thought of you, too,” Mac said. “I hated it. Whenever I made friends with a guy in my class, I heard your stupid voice in the back of my head, telling me I was out of my mind thinking we could actually be friends.”

  Gideon wanted to smack his freshman year self. Maybe Mac was out of his mind for giving Gideon a second chance. But he wouldn’t screw this one up.

  Mac rested his head against Gideon’s shoulder and fell asleep for part of the journey. Gideon loved being his pillow. A man in the row across the way shot them a look that cut Gideon to the bone. He hated that this stranger made him feel that way, but he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction he wanted. He turned to the window. He knew on some level, the whispers would always be with them. The world was changing, but not fast enough.

  “We’ll figure out what to do with your stuff,” Gideon said. “Don’t worry about your parents. Don’t give them another thought. They don’t deserve your energy.”

  Mac gave him an uneasy smile. It was the same reaction Gideon noticed when he brought this up earlier. His face drained of color like it had in Aunt Rita’s house. Gideon thought he would be more excited that someone was standing up for him to his parents.

  Gideon kissed his ear. What Mac needed most right now was support, and Gideon was happy to be the supportive boyfriend. “It’s going to be okay.”

  They reached the Welcome to Duncannon sign. Gideon felt his body clench up a touch. Back in the real world, where Gideon Saperstein didn’t canoodle with his male ex-roommate.

  Φ

  Seth was a very methodical dribbler. He seemed to go into deep thought and used the rhythm of the bouncing ball to coordinate his attack.

  “Sometime this century, man. Or else I’m going to steal.” Gideon only pretended to play defense. He used these extra seconds to prepare himself for coming out to his friend.

  “You can try to steal. Doesn’t mean you’re going to be—”